They All Die In The End
by Torithy
Summary: They were all his responsibility. His blood and his brothers; his family and his life. And he couldn't save them. One-shot.


**A/N: Something different from me - this is set straight after Jax becomes president. All the lines in italics are from JT's manuscript and I take no credit for them.**

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**They All Die In The End**

Exhaling a thin stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth, Jax Teller watched the tip of his cigarette glow in the growing dusk and sighed. It had been a long day and he had a feeling there were longer still to come.

But for now, from his vantage point on the roof of the Samcro clubhouse, he could watch over his world. From the high fences cutting them off from the outside, to the gleaming bikes parked in a line, this was all his - in a way it never had been when he was simply the heir to the throne.

Everyone within these confines, yeah, they might answer to him, but he also answered for them. They were all his responsibility. His blood and his brothers; his family and his life.

And he couldn't save them. From outsiders, from each other, or from themselves.

_When you move your life off the social grid, you give up on the safety that society provides. On the fringe, blood and bullets are the rule of law and, if you're a man with convictions, violence is inevitable ..._

Returning the cigarette to between his lips, he raked his freed-up hand through his shaggy blonde hair while the other still clutched the well-thumbed sheaf of paper. Not for the first time, he wished his dad was still around. JT had known the life – plus a thing or two about death, including foretelling his own.

These days, Jax was left wondering if that really pointed to any particular insights on the part of his father though. The way he was starting to see it, the first nail in John Teller's coffin had been hammered home the second his feet hit home soil fresh from the blood-soaked streets of Saigon.

No matter how grand his ideals, no matter how good his intentions, JT had both literally and figuratively put the wheels in motion for the carnage that had followed the Sons since their club's conception.

Anarchy was to be their motto and their downfall.

_The true outlaw finds the balance between the passion in his heart and the reason in his mind. The solution is always an equal mix of might and right ..._

Somewhere along the way, the plan had gotten twisted. And now the cracks were too deep to just be papered over. The club was fracturing right in front of them all and everything they did just seemed to hasten the surely inevitable final break. He had to fix it. He couldn't let this be how his father's legacy ended.

Yet he felt powerless to stop it. And Jax Teller was not a man who liked feeling fucking powerless.

He already seen so much hurt, so much pain ... It seemed increasingly like being part of the club came with a hell of a pricetag – paid for with the lives of his brothers and their families.

JT, Piney, Kozik, Kip. Donna and Luann.

And with plenty of plain old destruction crossing their paths, it wasn't just about death. Or was it?

_Each savage event was a catalyst for the next ... Blood was every colour._

He knew from personal experience how easy it was to spiral downwards, to think about giving up when all you were faced with was loss. When his son had been taken from him, for a while nothing had mattered anymore. He'd shut down, pushed everyone away, lost himself in despair.

A part of him had died. Just like all those others who'd been caught up in the tangles woven by Samcro.

Without his beloved Luann, Otto was merely existing on Stockton's death row - no longer seeming the least bit concerned by the prospect of what might happen to him. On the outside, Opie was faring little better and even Tara had lost some vital part of herself, when the damage to her hand brought her career crashing down.

It only added to his pain to see those he loved forced to bear the burdens of the club.

But Jax took another long drag of his cigarette and set down his father's manuscript as his gaze roamed over the yard again. This was his world now, not JT's, and sure as hell not Clay's. Maybe he could still restore the balance ...

Or maybe that was just how they were all destined to die in the end. Piece by shattered piece.

_Fear the Reaper._


End file.
